Dreaming
by AkarneanGirl
Summary: John Watson sometimes has bad dreams. Sherlock is determined to do something about it. Johnlock.


John Watson sometimes has bad dreams. He's tried everything to stop them. Relaxation techniques, sleeping pills, therapy, he's even tried tiring himself out so he falls asleep of exhaustion in the hope he won't dream. But no matter what he tried, he still found himself waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, images of blood and death visible in front of his eyes. It was in these moments that he most regretted his break-up with Sarah. She had prevented the dreams from coming, and on the nights they came still she would comfort him after he woke.

John had hoped the dreams would go away in time. And they did. At least for a little while. After he had moved in with Sherlock he found that his dreams came less frequently. He had begun to believe that they would disappear entirely. That was before Moriarty. Moriarty brought back the dreams as if he had relight the fire that caused them. But this time, the dreams were different.

He still dreamt of the gunfire and the bloodshed that was present in Afghanistan, however now they were intertwined with images from the pool. In his dream he had a bomb strapped to his chest, and the members of his unit were all being cut down around by a faceless figure who he knew to be Moriarty.

Eventually it came to a stage where he was being plagued by these dreams night after night. Dark rims appeared under his eyes and his movements during the day slowed. He began taking a large assortment of vitamins at breakfast, in the hope that no one would notice how tired he was. No matter how hard he tried he knew he wouldn't be able to keep the secret from his roommate forever.

As the weeks wore on Sherlock gave no indication whatsoever that he knew of his roommate's restless sleep patterns. Lestrade knew. Mrs Hudson knew. John couldn't understand how it was that Sherlock didn't know.

That night, when John climbed into bed he found himself thinking of Sherlock. Of his dark curls and his long pale limbs. With a soft smile John closed his eyes, and found the dreams took longer to find him. But no matter what it was he thought about before he slept, the dreams always found him eventually and that night, like every night before it, he woke screaming.

Sherlock Holmes knows that John sometimes has bad dreams. He has known this from the moment John moved into Apartment 221B. He also knew that John was trying to hide them. Instead of bringing them to attention as Sherlock wanted to do, he opted instead to stay silent and allow John to work through these dreams on his own.

Weeks went by and John still dreamt. Sherlock stopped sleeping and took to listening out for John. He had begun to whimper in his dreams a few weeks back, after the encounter with Moriarty. More than once Sherlock could hear his own name escape the Doctor's lips.

It was on one of these nights Sherlock approached John's bedroom and cautiously opened the door. He could see John's silhouette as he tossed and turned to try and chase the nightmares away. Sherlock wanted to enter the room, to gather John in his arms and soothe him until he relaxed. Instead, he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Many months passed and the residents of Apartment 221B never spoke of John's bad dreams. More than once John had caught Sherlock looking at him with concern as he stifled a yawn. He began to suspect that Sherlock knew about the dreams, though it didn't really surprise him that his roommate knew.

Sherlock didn't know what to do. He wanted to help John, but John didn't appear to want any help. He considered going to Lestrade or Mrs Hudson for help, but he didn't want word to get back to John that he knew.

The Doctor and the consulting detective returned to Baker's Street late one night after solving a particularly difficult case. They had been working it for three days and had barely gotten a chance to sleep. John looked as though he were ready to pass out, though when Sherlock suggested he go to bed, he caught a flicker of fear in John's eye.

Wordlessly, Sherlock approached John and took him gently by the arm. John opened his mouth to question it but Sherlock shushed him. He led John into his bedroom and sat him down on the bed. Quietly, he told John to get ready for bed. John argued, telling Sherlock that he wasn't a child and didn't need someone to put him to bed.

"Suit yourself," replied Sherlock before he left the room. He closed the door softly behind him and sat in the living room. He half-heartedly reached for the remote but decided against it. He knew John needed sleep and he didn't want to disturb him. Instead, he sat in silence until the sounds of John whimpers roused him.

In a flash Sherlock was up and at John's door. He opened it quietly and was greeted with the same sight he had seen before, only this time he didn't hesitate. He crossed the room swiftly and gathered John in his arms, smoothing his hair back from his forehead and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. John began to settle in Sherlock's arms.

Soon, John was lying still, his breathing even. Sherlock looked down at the sleeping man in his arms and smiled, leaning over to place a kiss on John's forehead. John shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm coming up and wrapping around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock froze briefly before relaxing against the headboard with John resting on his chest. Before long he was asleep as well.

When John woke the next morning it was to find himself wrapped up in Sherlock's arms. Embarrassed he began to pull away before he realised that he felt more rested than he had done in months. He smiled as Sherlock shifted in his sleep, arms tightening around John.

"Morning," said the consulting detective without opening his eyes.

"Morning," replied John. "What exactly happened last night?" he asked. He could feel the vibrations in Sherlock's chest as he let out a chuckle.

"You needed sleep John. The only way you seemed to sleep was when I slept with you." John closed his eyes. He felt as Sherlock leaned down to plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Is this really how you wanted to spend your night Sherlock?"

"I don't mind. Consider it an experiment." John pulled away from Sherlock and sat up to face him.

"If this was an experiment what were your deductions?"

Without hesitation Sherlock replied, "That you sleep better with human contact."

"I suppose I do."

Sherlock and John's relationship changed after that night. Their days were still the same. They went on cases, John went out to pick up milk and Sherlock continued to not eat or sleep when he was working a case.

But their nights were different. Every night Sherlock would share a bed with John and would chase all of his nightmares away. After that night, he never had another nightmare again.


End file.
